Men under a state of siege
~Palash Krishna Mehrotra
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| Photo: The Guardian |
New Delhi, December 1, 2013: First, this is not a piece about the incident(s) in the elevator. This is not about the morality of what happened between Tarun Tejpal and the 'victim' at Think festival. The matter is sub-judice. Let the courts decide.
Instead, this is a piece about the new enlarged definition of rape (and what it means for men); what Tejpal stands for as a person; the witch-hunt against him; and the larger link between writers and criminality.
The new legal regime, put in place after the December 16 gangrape, though well-intentioned, certainly seems draconian, and full of grey areas. The police are duty-bound to register a case as soon as they receive information, even if the complainant hasn't come forward. The definition of sexual harassment has been widened to include 'sexual overtures' (like sending an email or a text message), demanding 'sexual favours' and 'forcible disrobing.'
New laws
Frighteningly, the new law makes it clear that consent given under intoxication does not translate into informed consent. This means that a drunken consensual tumble with a woman can come back to haunt the man the next day, or even ten years later. This seems grossly unfair. And what about demanding sexual favours? Clinton, for example, was clearly demanding a sexual favour of Monica Lewinsky. But if a man offers to 'go down' on a woman - is he offering a submissive sexual favour or demanding one? Many Indian men admit privately that they feel they are under a state of siege. The bedroom has been criminalised. Is it going to be impossible to form relationships from now on? Have we as a society, yet again, swung from one extreme to another?
Let's not forget that iconic feminists themselves have criticised hysterical feminism in the West. Doris Lessing once said, and I quote, "I find myself increasingly shocked at the unthinking and automatic rubbishing of men which is now so part of our culture that it is hardly even noticed… The most ill-educated and nasty woman can rubbish the nicest, kindest and most intelligent man and no one protests. What is happening to men?... Why did this have to be at the cost of men?"
Point two. About the witch-hunt. It's something that Tejpal suffered when Tehelka broke the Operation Westend story about the Indian Army. The company's finances were squeezed, other media organisations shunned Tehelka and regular raids were the norm at their Soami Nagar office. I experienced this firsthand since I worked there. This time it's been worse. As I said at the outset, let the law take its course. But what about the other stuff? How were news channel cameras allowed into the plane that was to bring Tejpal and family to Goa? How can an incident in an elevator be blown so out of proportion that an entire organisation is brought to its knees? It doesn't seem right that several people are now going to lose their jobs because of what one man might have done. It wasn't their fault. Why punish them?
Also, why wait till now to dig up dirt on Tejpal - all this stuff about shares being sold at inflated prices, PF and health benefits not being paid to employees, properties bought at different locations. It smacks of going after a fallen man. It seems to me that by doing so, the media is trying to cleanse itself of its own sins committed in the past. It's the most convenient way of absolving itself of all wrongs.
Maverick
Point three. Something about Tarun as a person. He represents south Delhi culture at its best (and, maybe, its worst - depending which side of the fence you are on.). He was brash, flamboyant, in-your-face. He knew how to get money out of moneybags. He rose from the ashes of the dotcom days with two print magazines, a festival and a clutch of best-selling novels. We don't take kindly to mavericks. There was bound to be tremendous jealousy. People were waiting for him to sink. That explains the glee. If anything one should feel sad, but glee? I'm not so sure.
Future
Christopher Hitchens's mother said of him that 'Chris always wanted to get to know everybody.' The fast-talking Tejpal was similar. He was ambitious, charming and confident, and he could get along with a swathe of people, as varied as Sir Vidia, Robert de Niro, even Ponty Chadha, whom he convinced to make a heavy investment in his M Block club called Prufrock. Here was a maverick who could not only wheel-n-deal with dodgy Ponty, but also someone who wrote fine literary reviews in his thirties, and displayed sound literary judgment as a publisher, publishing the likes of Irwin Allan Sealy and Arundhati Roy.
Finally, if convicted, Tejpal will go to jail. This might mark the end of his career in journalism but certainly not as a writer. The morality of art and society's morality have little in common. In fact, writers and jail seem to enjoy a productive relationship. The list is long and illustrious: John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim's Progress in prison; Ezra Pound worked on his Cantos here; Gramsci, Wittgenstein, O Henry and Oscar Wilde - the roll call goes on. Jean Genet's The Thief's Journal, his account of his days in prison, is regarded as a classic. Let's not write Tejpal off yet. He might just write himself in.
(The writer is the author of The Butterfly Generation)
